


Country Life

by ami_ven



Series: clone!verse [9]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: writerverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the middle of nowhere is pretty good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Country Life

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "as far as the eye can see" (present tense, 500+ words)

They move to Hopewell because it’s the middle of nowhere. Because it’s nowhere near any military or scientific centers of the country, because it’s a place where no one would ever expect to find Jack O’Neill and Sam Carter, and therefore it’s the perfect place for newlyweds John and Tara Nelson.

John likes the house at once. The ‘old MacArthur place’ everyone in town calls it, long after they’ve moved in. It needs some repairs— okay, a lot of repair— but Tara still knows how to build nuclear bombs and John has always been good with his hands. It’s a lot of work, but slowly the house becomes _theirs_ and John hardly finds himself thinking about his old life at all. He’s a simple guy, with simple tastes, and the country life suits him just fine.

He just isn’t sure the same is true for Tara.

John is perfectly willing to admit that he’s happy here, in the middle of nowhere. As Hopewell’s newest firefighter, he is still doing good and saving lives, just for a smaller percentage of the universe than he had been before. But Tara had been used to the cutting-edge of military science and now she teaches ninth-through-twelfth grade.

Truth be told, John still feels a little guilty for dragging her out here. Cloning herself was Sam’s— Tara’s— own idea, he knows that, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’d done it entirely because of him. She’d become a teenager again, gone to community college as though she didn’t still remember enough for a dozen PhDs, moved with him to the absolute middle of nowhere, all without a single word of complaint, but John couldn’t see what she got out of the deal, except for him.

The house is quiet when John gets home from work, just the front porch light to ward off the coming night. Coming up the front walk, he can see the buds of flowers they’ve planted, just beginning to come up, as much a promise of the future as the room they’ve just begun painting as a nursery.

“Tara!” he calls, deliberately not worrying.

“Back here!” she replies.

John finds her on the back porch (which still needs to be washed and painted) with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a steaming mug cradled in both hands. 

“Hey,” says Tara, leaning up for a kiss. “I was just out here enjoying the view.”

She gestures, vaguely, and John looks out over their yard. It’s bordered by trees on two sides, and on the third by an overgrown field that used to be a pasture or a vegetable garden or something. Really, there’s nothing but grass and trees as far as the eye can see, but Tara just leans against his side and keeps looking.

“It’s so… quiet, out here,” she says, after a long moment. “Even twenty-eight floors under a mountain, there was always noise, always so much that needed to be done. Here…”

“Yeah,” John agrees, and settles in beside her.

THE END


End file.
